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Your first time, Our last nightthis story is part of the FanClub (bi:female domination, 2453 words)

Author: PastPresentFuture Picture in profile
Added: Dec 05 2012Views / Reads: 9468 / 5055 [53%]Story vote: 9.45 (11 votes)
We're breaking up, but I want to fulfill one last fantasy of yours, and of mine.
 

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Tonight will be the last time I see you.

I light candles in the bathroom & get a fresh bar of your favourite soap. Tearing off the paper wrapping I inhale the scent that so means *you* to me. I slip into the shower and let the hot water cascade over my back, feeling the tension & nervousness about tonight melting away.

Closing my eyes I slowly run the bar of soap over my skin, one hand following the other in a gentle slick of bubbles, remembering, pretending my hands are yours. Feeling the hardness of my nipples as I glide the palms of my hands over them, slipping fingers between my legs to wash the folds of my pussy oh so carefully, thinking of your tongue there, your lips sucking my clit. Remembering.

I towel off in the steamy bathroom, smiling as I read your i love you' written on the mirror. Bittersweet memory of the last shower we had together. Flipping my head over I dry my hair, putting on a bit of the gel you so love the scent of. Rich lotion slowly rubbed in on every surface of my skin, loving the smoothness of my freshly shaved legs & pussy. Feeling my clit gradually swelling, aching for the touch of you.

I pour myself a drink and light a cigarette as I try to decide what to wear. I've been pondering this for days now, knowing that this night, this final night would be coming soon. I'm torn between wanting to see you, needing to see you one last time, and knowing how it will rip the scars open again, crushing my heart.

Cobalt blue satin & black lace. Our Valentine's outfit, you with your matching satin smoking jacket/robe, me in the sexiest piece of lingerie I've ever owned. I adjust my breasts in the cups of the basque, loving the deep cleavage it creates, and slip on black mesh tights that I've torn a strategic hole in. I slip my fingers through the hole in the lace, feeling the wetness seeping out, ramming three fingers in and pumping them hard, slippery juices coating them, so sweet when I lick them clean. Forcing myself to stop just as I feel the beginning tremours of cumming start.

Glancing at the clock I hurriedly put on the violet eyeshadow you love, a sweep of mossy forest green, and a fine line of pure ultraviolet

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